


Salt and Circles

by usedupshiver



Category: Iron Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Demons, Alternate Universe - Human, Attempt at Humor, Dark Magic, Demon Tony Stark, Demons, Dom/sub Undertones, Jarvis is a tricksy little shit, Loki Does What He Wants, Loki Feels, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, S&M, The Author Regrets Nothing, Tony Stark Does What He Wants, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings, it's just pretty dark and twisted, or possibly more than undertones
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:08:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 10,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630981
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usedupshiver/pseuds/usedupshiver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>"They used to know better. Salt and circles and holy water and runes. And now? Nothing... Are they really this stupid?"</i><br/>
<i>"I believe 'ignorant' is the word you're looking for, sir..."</i></p><p>When Loki unwittingly summons a demon, the dark entity suddenly in possession of Loki's soul is pretty sure he can just have his way with the foolish mortal. Turns out the demon is both absolutely right - and completely wrong.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> (In part inspired by [this prompt](http://usedupshiver.tumblr.com/post/114486278867/otpprompts-a-is-a-demon-while-b-is-a-human-one). Then things happened.)  
> (Also - I rated this as explicit since there's some stuff going on here that wouldn't be considered SSC. If one cares about such things. Because demons sure don't. Just a heads up.)

"Oh, come on! You're not _scared_ are you?" Fandral's bright, teasing smile clashed horribly with his zombie makeup. "It's just a book, Lokes. You love books, right?"

Loki felt his fingers grip the thin, leatherbound volume harder, until all the joints in his fingers hurt. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Hogun and Volstagg exchange amused looks under their own grayish makeup, and for a moment he was almost afraid his fingers would actually break.

"This is stupid", he muttered, forcing himself to let go enough to hold the book out to Fandral in one hand. "Do it yourself."

"I can't read it." The blond shrugged under his torn, bloodstained t-shirt. "It's all in foreign."

"It's latin, you dolt." That was Sif, surprisingly enough, speaking from her place tucked up under Thor's heavy arm. She was dressed as a witch, complete with the pointy hat, and Loki tried not to think about how fitting he found it. "Of course you can't read it. It's a dead language."

Loki groaned, but kept himself from facepalming. "That's not how it works", he couldn't stop himself pointing out, though. "Latin is a 'dead language' because no-one speaks it anymore, it doesn't mean you can't read it off a page."

"Why not do it, then?" Thor's curious rumble neatly locked the trap Loki had obviously walked himself right into. 

Thor was dressed up as a zombie too, just like the other three guys - none of them had been able to come up with their own idea, and then they had figured that zombies just moved in packs anyway.

A pack of brainless idiots without any independent thought... Why had they even bothered with the makeup?

Loki himself hadn't dressed up at all. He was just in black slacks and a black shirt to go with his pale complexion and shoulder-length, back hair and everyone immediately assumed he was a vampire. He didn't try to tell them any different. (Except the ones asking if he shouldn't sparkle. Those recieved a death-glare. One girl almost started crying. It was glorious.)

"Fine!" Loki spat the word out when he gave up. It was all stupid, so why not? It wasn't as if anything in this ugly prop they had found in a corner full of fake spiderwebs and plastic insects would do anything anyway. Most likely the writing in it was all some lorem ipsum nonsense to fill out the pages.

He ran his thumb down the side, flipping through the pages until it opened at a place that somehow seemed more used than the rest, going by the way the book just _wanted_ to fall open right there. The left page was just a few lines of text. The right showed some sort of symbol Loki had never seen before, painted with bright blue ink; two triangles in a circle, surrounded by some more shapes and lines he didn't bother studying closer.

Since Thor, Sif and the Idiots Three had most likely expected him to read it all slowly and dramatically in some deep tone of voice filled with portents of doom, he did the opposite. He just rattled off the few lines of text, pronounciation exact and flawless, but without any theatrics. He had no idea what most of the words meant. He'd only studied latin for a couple of years in school, but it didn't matter, of course. Loki could still read it perfectly fine. Then he snapped the book shut, and pushed it into Fandral's chest, forcing him to instinctively catch it when Loki let go, to stop it from falling to the floor.

"Storytime over, kids. Now go eat candy until your teeth rot." Loki could almost feel their disappointed looks follow him as he left the room and walked out into the kitchen.

He needed a drink. Even if they were all pumpkin flavoured.

* * *

_"Well, well, well... What do we have here? Isn't this one a pretty thing? Asleep, though, by the look of it. Or passed out, perhaps. Smell that? Ah, yes, vodka. I like it. Marinated and ready for the flames. I wish they'd all come to me like that._

_”Hmmm. He really is pretty... Maybe I'll keep this one around for a bit? First? Can't go too easy on him, though. I have a reputation to uphold here. If they think they can go around summoning me any way they please... Well, can't have that, now can we? This one didn't even take any sort of precaution before reading the words, and now look at him - wide open and helpless._

_”Fuck, but the youth of today has gone to shit! They used to know better. Salt and circles and holy water and runes. And now? Nothing..._

_”Are they really this stupid?"_

_"I believe 'ignorant' is the word you're looking for, sir."_

_"Sounds about right. Oh, well. Let him sleep it off, but stay here. Keep an eye on him for me. I'll be back later, to introduce myself."_

_"Of course, sir. Should I let him know what he's meddled in?"_

_"Well... Why not? A healthy dose of fear should ease the way even more..."_

* * *

Loki woke up the next day with one of the worst hangovers he could remember in his twentyfour years. Which didn't say much, since he hardly ever went out and got drunk, but still.

He rolled around in his tangled sheets for about an hour, sweaty and nauseous but stubbornly swallowing it all down, until he had to give up and make a hurried visit to the bathroom. When his stomach had gotten rid of what it clearly had never wanted in the first place, Loki stumbled out into the kitchen to search for a glass of water, and some painkillers - his stomach felt a lot better, but throwing up had ignited the headache which had just been a dull glow before.

It was then, when he spotted the thing sitting on the counter, that he started wondering if someone hadn't put something in his glass at some point during last night. Somthing not alcohol. Because it wasn't possible to even try to explain it as a raccoon or some other pest. Even though he lived in an apartment, on the fourth floor, and a raccoon was unlikely enough. 

The thing in his kitchen was red, to begin with. It was about the size of a raccoon, though, but it wasn't furry. It was thin and long-limbed and sinewy under a smooth, leathery skin. The sharp little face was all pointy nose, toothy grin and wide, bright blue eyes. Its long ears were pointy too, and it had a whiplike tail, moving in rippling little curls over the countertop.

"What the hell?" Loki's words were gravelly from sleep and throwing up, but the mutter was clear enough, apparently, because the critter's ears perked up and the grin got even wider.

"Excellent question, actually", it said, its voice sharp and clear and surprisingly articulate. If Loki had expected it to be able to speak at all, he would have guessed at shrill screeches. Nothing like this sardonic, teasing tone. "Since that is where I'm from."

"What?" Loki backed half a step, slowly.

"Hell", the creature repeated, clarifying. "That's where I'm from."

"A demon, then? Should have guessed from the look of you." The room felt like it was tilting and spinning and Loki was fairly certain he was still passed out and dreaming. That was the only thing keeping him sort of calm.

The thing sniggered. "Me? No, no... I'm an imp." It pulled its hands up by its narrow chest, rubbing the bony, clawed fingers together, looking smug. "My master, on the other hand? He is a demon. And he was not pleased that you would attempt to summon and command him. You will live to regret your arrogance."

Summon a demon? No, hold on... Wait... It couldn't be...?

"But... that book wasn't _real_ , was it?" Loki's hands curled to fists by his sides. "It was just some toy for decoration. Right? I didn't mean to summon anyone! Or command them! This is all some kind of mistake."

The imp shook its pointy head. "Ignorance of the law does not make you innocent of the crime, mortal. You are guilty and will be punished. And when my master is done with you, he will throw me the scraps." A forked little tongue came to lick the many, many sharp teeth. Then the grin faded slightly, and the creature looked around the small kitchen. "That could be a while yet, however, and I'm already starving." Brightly burning blue eyes settled on Loki again. "You should feed me."

Well, that was just rude! Loki glared at the creature. "I should _feed_ you?!" Now he stepped forward, hands still in fists, and maybe he imagined it but he thought he saw the imp cower, just a little, when he came closer. "You break into my home to tell me someone is coming to kill me, and then you have the nerve to demand food? What's wrong with you?!"

By the time he was finished Loki was all the way up by the counter, fists resting on the edge of it, leaning in to scowl at the critter. He was furious now, the anger fanned by his fear. And the imp seemed to notice. It was now visibly backing up and crouching down when its knobbly back hit the tiles on the wall. The blue eyes shifted uncertainly in quick little flitting motions, looking anywhere but at Loki's face.

"I'm... sorry?" The thing curled up, tail tucked between its legs, eyes wide like a scolded puppy's.

"You'd better be." Loki stayed in place a few moments, for good measure, before turning to pick a take out menu and slap it down on the counter by the imp's feet. 

It eyed the colourful paper, leaned down on all fours and sniffed it. Then it gave Loki a dubious look. 

"What? Did you expect me to cook for you?" Raising an eyebrow Loki folded his arms across his chest. "I'm tired and hung over. There is an imp in my kitchen and apparently a demon coming to kill me. If that's not reason enough to order in, then nothing ever will be."

The imp blinked. Then shrugged as if to say "fair enough", before it browsed the menu and picked the spiciest pizza it could find. With extra olives. 

Loki ordered his usual quattro stagioni for himself and the imp's chosen meal, and then went to take a shower while he waited for the food to be delivered. He wasn't sure it would do any good, but he still very carefully closed and locked the door to the bathroom before he pulled off the t-shirt and underwear that had been all he'd been wearing before. Luckily enough, he had not considered that fact when he had moved to physically threaten the demonic creature in his kitchen. It would probably have made him think better of it.

When the food arrived Loki carried the pizza boxes to the coffee table in the livingroom and had barely sat down on the couch before the imp jumped up on the table next to the boxes, apparently out of nowhere. Loki opened the box with the imp's food and pushed it to the side before cutting his own pizza into slices. Then he glanced over to find the imp crouched down by the side of the box and, surprisingly elegantly, picking out the olives to eat them first. It really seemed to like them. Odd that is was anything but a strict carnivore, really, with teeth like those...

Shaking his head Loki picked up a slice for himself, but only got through half of it before his stomach gave a growling protest and he decided to give it some time to think things over. He gave a shaky sigh and let himself tip over on the couch, head on a throw pillow. This was all too much. It really was. Part of him was still sure he would wake up to find it was all a dream, that he had passed out right there on the couch last night after the party and just woken up, and none of this had even happened.

Instead he woke up on the couch to find that the imp had curled up in the angle between his drawn up legs and his abdomen, and fallen asleep. Its own stomach was a lot rounder now, full of olives and spicy meat, one of the long ears was twitching in a dream, and the tip of the snakelike tail was wedged in between Loki's thighs, as if searching for warmth. Loki groaned quietly and placed a hand over his eyes when his head had dropped back into the pillow, after taking this strange sight in. Because the thought passing through his head wasn't right; the hellish creature that had showed up to inform him that he was facing a horrible death should not be _adorable_. That was plain wrong.

After a while the imp woke up, stretching and yawning widely, and scurried off to inspect the apartment. It sniffed in corners, read the titles of books in the shelves, nibbled at the leaves of potted plants, and was generally nosy and everywhere. Loki ate more of the now cold pizza, zapped listlessly between channels on the TV, and tried not to notice what the critter was doing.

Sometime during the afternoon Thor called to chatter about how great last night had been, and Loki could do nothing more than hum and mumble at the right places. Thor chuckled at his lack of energy, assuming he was horribly hung over – which wasn't completely wrong – and at last hung up.

Loki stayed by the TV until he went to bed. When he had crawled under the covers he felt a little dip in the mattress, the movements of something small, and a warm weight settling on top of his feet. He sighed into the pillow.

”You're here to keep track of me, aren't you?”, he muttered.

”Yes”, the imp said, and then clawed into the covers over Loki's toes, like a pleased cat. ”Until my master comes. Which should be soon, now. Rest while you can, mortal.”

That didn't feel right. If these were indeed his last hours, then Loki thought he should make the most of them. But then he couldn't figure out what that should be.

He was unemployed at the moment, so the fact that tomorrow was monday made no difference, no-one would miss him, and there was no-one to tell he wouldn't show up. No-one was expecting to hear from him privately either. No friends would wonder and worry.

The relationship between him and his family had been strained, to say the least, since he had found out he was adopted and shortly thereafter moved out. Thor tried to keep in touch, but he had his own life, and Loki was only marginally a part of it. It could take weeks before anyone of them knew he was gone.

He was single, and had already given up on ever changing that. Loki knew there was no-one who would ever want to deal with the mess he was. Too intense, too weird, too... everything.

There really was nothing to make the most of. So maybe rest was the best option, after all.

* * *

Once the young man was asleep the visitor from the night before returned. This time he wasn't just an invisible, shadowy force and a whispered voice; this time he was close enough to take physical shape. A shape that looked for all the world like a man leaning elegantly against the doorframe, arms folded over his chest, one knee bent slightly. He was dressed in a perfectly tailored three piece suit in black, a dark red shirt, the golden chain of a pocket watch sparkling at his waist. The wild, willful, slightly curly hair was dark brown, like his eyes, and he had an even darker goatee shaped into sharp angles around his mouth.

He pressed the palm of one hand flat to his chest, and a blue glow flashed behind it for a moment. On the bed, the imp stirred, sat up, and its bright blue eyes found him instantly. Moments later it was off the bed and by his feet. Then the imp climbed his side with sharp claws digging into the black suit, until it could perch on his shoulder. The long tail curled around his neck for support. 

"What do you think, Jarvis?" The man's voice was rich and dark, and he didn't bother to keep it soft. If he didn't wish the mortal to hear him, then he wouldn't. If he wanted the mortal to hear him, nothing would be able to keep his words out.

The imp shifted a little on his shoulder. "The boy is foolish and ignorant, sir. Just as you thought. But he is also fearless. And kind-hearted."

The last words made the dark man give a huff of soft laughter. "And why would I care about that?"

"Because a kind heart tastes sweeter and burns brighter, sir", the imp murmured by his ear. "And the brightest flame casts the darkest shadow."

The man considered the sleeping shape on the bed a moment before he raised a hand to scratch the imp's back, rubbing blunt fingertips over the leathery skin, making it arch into the touch and give a rattling purr. "True", he said at last, and then turned thoughtful. "You like him." It wasn't really a question.

"Yes, sir." The imp hesitated, but then continued, more quietly. "He reminds me of you, when you were young."

”Oh, really now?” A deeper laughter came from the man then. ”Well, that makes no difference. He read the words, and I'll have his soul for it.”

Jarvis said nothing to that; the imp knew there was nothing to say.

The dark man walked across the room, up to the bed, and leaned forward slightly, with his hands clasped behind his back, letting the imp shuffle for balance. Taking in the pale profile and the long lashes and the soft lips, parted in sleep. ”But yes, we can definitely keep him around for a bit. First.”

* * *

Loki was alone when he woke up, which surprised him. He had been sure the imp would still be there, to keep its weird, blue eyes on him.

It also worried him, because if the creature didn't have to keep an eye on him that had to mean its master – whoever he was – had already arrived.

At least Loki was still alive. So there was that.

He rolled out of bed, went to the kitchen, turned on the coffee maker, got dressed in jeans so old they were worn soft and a green sweater, came back to pour the coffee and take a bitter sip.

_”Ah, you drink it black. I'm liking you even better now.”_

Loki nearly did a spit-take and almost dropped the cup as well. He just managed to slam it down on the counter before he spun around, green eyes wide and taking in the room in quick sweeps. But there was no-one there. He blinked. Still nothing.

It wasn't until then he noticed that the hot beverage had sloshed over the rim of the cup and scolded his finger. He winced and held it under the cold water for a minute or two, still glancing over his shoulder. Then he wiped the cup and the surface under it clean and brought the coffee into the livingroom, lying down on the couch and picking up a book he had been reading.

_”A Game of Thrones, I see... Has Ned Stark died yet?”_

While he slowly lowered the thick paperback into his lap, Loki eyed the room again. This time he was getting more and more sure that the voice was only in his head.

”No, he hasn't”, he muttered and lifted the book again.

_”Oh, I'm sorry... I never meant to ruin the fun.”_

”Yes, you did.” Loki slowly turned a page. ”Joke's on you though, asshole, because I've read it before.”

The little silence that followed almost felt stunned. Then there echoed a little chuckle in Loki's head. _”Did you really call me_ asshole _just now?”_ More chuckles. _”I haven't had that happen in centuries!”_

”That's strange.” Hiding his smirk in his cup, Loki took a sip of coffee. ”I would have guessed you got that at least a couple of times a day.”

”And why is that?”

This time Loki nearly choked on his coffee, because those words had _not_ been in his head. That rich, dark, amused voice had definitely spoken out loud now, and close, too – and when he dropped the book again he realized how close.

There was a dark-haired, dark-eyed, well-dressed and very handsome stranger on his knees over Loki on the couch, straddling his thighs, hands planted on the seat on either side of Loki's middle, and leaning in so close that Loki could catch the spicy scent of him and the fresh brush of his breath. Loki fliched and instinctively moved to get away. The cup fell on the floor with a clatter of broken china, but he didn't care, flailing for purchase on the cushions. 

Not even a line shifted on the man's face. He just lifted a hand off the seat and placed it on Loki's chest, and that was the end of the struggle – he was so firmly pinned in place that he had to fight to even breathe.

”Well, now you're just breaking my heart”, the dark stranger purred. ”Less than two days ago you called out so sweetly for me, and now that I'm here, you don't seem to want me anymore. I'm crushed. Really.”

”Get... off... me!” Loki gasped for air between the words, pulling uselessly at the arm holding him down.

”Easy there, now. Don't hurt yourself – that's my job.” The hand slowly lifted off him, letting Loki suck in a few deep breaths. ”Let's try this again, then.” The man placed his hand on the seat, where it had been from the start, and eyed Loki with a curious look on his sharply elegant face. ”Why is it you would have guessed I get called an asshole on a daily basis?”

”I think that's obvious, with the way you – and your little hell-spawn – continue to treat me!” Loki managed a scowl he felt pretty proud of, considering the circumstances. ”And I never called for you.”

”Oh, but you did. And now I'm here.”

Loki clenched his teeth, angry and scared in a tangled mess. ”Do I get my three wishes then?”

The man gave a snort. ”I'm not a _genie_ , boy! And I'm not that kind of demon, either. No-one calls me for petty favours. The ones who call me are at the end of the line, out of hope, but need something desperately enough to be prepared to pay my price.”

Loki swallowed, not liking the sound of that, but still forced to ask. ”And what is your price?”

”To go down in flames. Explode. Crash and burn.” A glint of blue fire flickered in the dark eyes at that. ”And, of course; your soul.”

”Of course”, Loki breathed. ”But then at least I get something? That thing I... desperately need?”

”Well now, there's your problem.” The man tilted his head and sounded almost apologetic, suddenly. ”You see, when you called me, you failed to bind me. So now, I don't have to do shit. And you?” He leaned in closer, his smooth top lip curling in something half snarl, half smirk. ”You... Are... Mine!” With every lingering word the teeth at the corners of his mouth grew longer, until they were four wickedly glinting daggers of bone prickling his full bottom lip.

Staring up at the demon, Loki felt himself shudder and go limp, a primitive, animal part of him undable to respond to that immovable weight and those threatening teeth above him with anything but instinctive submission.

”Please”, he heard himself whisper. ”Please, don't.” While a part of him wondered why. Just last night he had after all concluded that this thing that was supposed to be his life really didn't amount to much. So why humiliate himself now, begging to keep it?

”Way too late to change it now, sweetheart.” 

The way the dark eyes dropped to his chest while a very red tongue ran over those sharp fangs made the word so literal that Loki felt his breath hitch in fear. He closed his eyes to not have to see his own death coming, at least, and let his head tip back against the armrest.

”Mmm, yes, that's it. Give up and give in. I like that in a man.” The demon's mouth had to be very close to his throat, because Loki could actually feel the vibrations of the words against his skin. And moments later, that tongue ran searing hot and wet along the line of it, making Loki whimper in something he wasn't sure was all fear. Part of it was shock. And a little bit of disgust. And maybe, just maybe, a tiny bit of arousal, too. ”But...” Sharp teeth nipped at the soft skin under his jaw. ”We don't have to close this deal right now.”

And then, the mouth was suddenly off him, the weight pinning him was gone, and Loki blinked and jerked his head upright to find the stranger standing right by the other end of couch, looking all prim and proper. He smiled pleasantly, and his teeth were nice and even and not sharp at all, as if Loki had imagined the whole thing.

”You have some coffee to clean up off your floorboards, after all”, the demon pointed out – and disappeared. Like he had never been there in the first place.

”I have... What?” He turned to lean over the side of the seat and found the imp curled up on hands and feet on the floor, lapping up cold coffe from the puddle between pieces of the broken cup. When it felt his eyes on it, it looked up, flicked its tail, shot him a toothy grin, and vanished as well.

Well... Wasn't this just a horrible morning?

When he'd cleared away the sorry remains of his favourite coffee cup and wiped the floor clean, Loki went back to the couch and flopped face down on it. He curled his arms around the throw pillow his face was buried in and briefly considered crying. Just a little. But then he felt too miserable to even do that. He thought he might suffocate himself in the pillow, while he was already there, but then he'd just be doing the demon's work for him – although with less fire and brimstone than he guessed that asshole demanded of his demise.

And no. Just... NO! _Fuck_ that pointy-teethed duo and their demands!

Loki growled into the green fabric under his face before he flipped over on his back, reached for the cellphone on the table next to him, and tapped open a browser window. Google, the all-knowing, ever-helpful deity of the modern era, could surely help him with this. Frowning, he started searching for anything that could help him.

And there was a lot, actually. He wasn't sure it was all true or would work, but some things seemed to come back over and over – salt, and circles, and the demon's name. Two of those he could manage easily, and he thought he knew where he would be able to find the third – in the same place he had found it when he had unwittingly summoned the demon to begin with.

* * *

Jarvis the imp was perched on a windowsill above a narrow alley, watching Loki (yes, he had picked up the young man's name and he liked that, too) nearly dive head-first into a dumpster. He curled his tail around his feet, gripped his bony knees in his hands, and leaned curiously over the edge some more to see what the mortal was doing.

Loki rummaged around in the trash a while, and then came back up, half covered in black-and-orange streamers and pastic spiderwebs. He threw nervous looks over his shoulders, clearly worried about being seen, but didn't think to look up to the windows above him. Then he got up on his toes and leaned down to pull at more plastic bags, things crunching and clinking as he shifted them around.

Smirking to himself, Jarvis watched as Loki suddenly stiffened, jerked upright, and stared at the thin, leatherbound book he had finally unearthed. Ah, he'd known he liked this one for a reason! He was _smart_. Not just a pretty face, this mortal. Perhaps he would even be smart enough...

* * *

He had to take a long shower and throw away the clothes he had been wearing after he was done, but he had found the book. At long last. And he had bought what was probably a life-time supply of salt. A couple of hours reading, and once again praying to all-mighty Google for some help translating where his own knowledge failed, Loki was certain he had everything he needed.

This could be done, he was sure of it.

The demon had another thing coming.

Now all he had to do was wait, which didn't turn out to be much of a problem – barely half an hour after he had made his last preparations, the dark man showed up. Right there. Standing outside the circle of salt Loki had shaped as perfectly as he could manage on his laminated kitchen floor. The demon was more casually dressed this time, in black slacks with a red leather belt, and a black shirt unbuttoned enough to show a hint of something bright blue on the bare chest under it.

”Well, this doesn't look very welcoming, young man.” He looked up from the salt to regard Loki with an eyebrow sceptically raised. ”I thought we were friends.”

”No, you didn't.” Loki crossed his arms in front of himself, a defensive move and he knew it showed, but he couldn't hide it. ”And I didn't mean it to be welcoming. Because I want to get rid of you.” He pulled a breath, focusing. ”Anathema.”

That first raised brow was joined by its brother, while the demon placed his hands on his hips. ”I hear someone has finally started doing his homework. Far too late, of course, but still. You're catching on! I'm slightly, grudgingly impressed.”

Loki frowned. He had been so certain he had gotten the name right. Quickly he glanced around himself to see if the circle was broken somewhere, but no, it was nicely thick and even all the way around. With an exasperated groan he ran his hands into his hair, making fists in it, frustrated. ”Why isn't this working?!”

”It would have worked”, Anathema said, evenly, ”if you had done it like this from the start. You could have bound me by that name then, with the right precautions in place. But it's not my true one, not the one I was first given, and to break free of me and slip my grasp, that is what you would need. Now...” The demon put his hands behind himself, probably clasping them at small of his back by the look of it. ”If you're quite done with this nonsense, it's about time you get out of that circle.”

The glint in the dark eyes and the curve of a smirk on the corner of the full lips made Loki think that would be a bad idea. He wrapped his arms protectively around himself again.

”You know what? No. I like it in here. It's cozy. I think I'm staying for a while.”

”No, you won't”, the demon said as he raised a hand, palm out. It glowed with a flash of bright blue, the light Loki had seen a hint of under the shirt intensifying at the same time, and then a whirlwind of black and burning blue ripped through the room.

With a startled shout Loki threw his hands up to protect his face, felt the otherworldly wind tug at his hair and clothes. But it only lasted for a moment before everything was still and quiet again. Slowly he lowered his arms, and saw Anathema still standing in the same spot, all easy calm, arms by his sides now. Then he looked to the floor around his own feet, and understood; the circle was almost entirely gone. Just a few little shifts of salt were left spread out on the floor.

”Oh...” 

When Loki raised his eyes the demon was standing right in front of him. He realized that they were of a height, and that the other was so close that Loki could have counted everyone of his long, black eyelashes. He felt himself go rigid, didn't even dare flinch.

”Just one question left now, then”, the dark voice purred, while a hand came up to comb into the hair at the back of Loki's head, twisting into it. ”Do I reward your bravery, or do I punish this attempt to foil me?”

Loki winced just a little at the stinging in his scalp, while his head was slowly tilted back, until all he could see was the white ceiling. ”Do I get a say in the matter?”

A brief pause. ”Sure, why not? For the hell of it.” Hot breath touched against the hollow of his throat, and Loki felt his Adam's apple move with a strained swallow. The demon chuckled. ”What would you prefer?”

His hands clenched into fists by his sides, and Loki didn't know how to breathe anymore but he had to. He just had to say something. An extra painful tug on his hair made him gasp in the air he needed, but he still almost whispered his answer. At least he got it past his teeth.

”Both?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (The word _anathema_ means "something dedicated", and in addition to being pretty close to Tony's own name, I thought that suited him really well.)


	2. Chapter 2

The demon known as Anathema had expected many things from the young man who had been fool enough to summon him. He really had. Things like begging, crying, apologies, more begging. Possibly groveling. He would have approved of all of it. It would have made absolutely no difference to what he had come for, in the end, but he definitely would have approved.

He had actually not expected the mortal to be crafty enough to attempt to get back in control, to come out on top. It had been rather well done, too. If Loki (yes, he had gotten the mortal's name from Jarvis and he had to admit he liked it) had gone through the trouble of learning what he now knew before he had read those words, then this would all have played out very differently, no doubt about that. Now it was useless, of course, but still unexpected.

And even though Jarvis had told him Loki was fearless nothing could have prepared him for _this_.

The demon stared at the long, pale, tense column of Loki's throat, bared in front of him. He could still hear the completely unexpected choice the young man had made whisper in his ears, and just to test the mortal's resolve he twisted a tiny bit harder on the long tresses of black hair in his clenched hand. It drew a breathless whimper from that exquisite throat.

”Well, aren't _you_ a greedy thing?” He gave a dark little chuckle and tilted Loki's head back upright. The wide eyes were almost all pupil now, just a sliver of green around the edges. ”But you're in luck; I'm feeling generous today.”

Without letting go of the black hair he turned to walk out into the livingroom where he had dropped in last time, dragging Loki along. Then he used that grip to shove the mortal toward the couch, letting go in the same movement. Loki took a couple of stumbling steps before he regained his balance and turned to look at the demon. It was half glare, and he found that he really enjoyed that. Yes, giving up and giving in were things he liked in a man, but some defiance on the way just made it all even sweeter.

”Strip.”

The glare turned into something more wide-eyed. Loki stayed frozen in place.

The demon rolled his eyes. ”I could grow claws and shred those clothes off your skin, but I doubt you'd prefer that. So strip.”

And after another few moments of hesitation, Loki did. Quickly and efficiently, no teasing, just one garment after the other pulled off and dropped to the floor until he was all fair skin and long limbs and nothing left to hide his obvious arousal behind.

Humming to himself, the demon stepped up to him again. ”Not bad”, he commented, almost absently. ”Not bad at all.” He had abslutely made the right choice when he had decided to keep this one around. So much he would have missed out on if he had ripped the soul out of his burning heart that first night! This was much more satisfying.

Then he gripped Loki's hair again and walked up to the couch, carelessly shoving the coffee table aside with a leg, until he could guide the young man down on his knees on the cushion, bent forward with his front on the high, sturdy backrest. The demon settled with one knee on the seat beside him, but not too close, unbuckled his thick, heavy, red leather belt and pulled it free of his pants. The whispering slide of leather against cloth made Loki tense and twitch a little, his eyes searching over his shoulder while he clung to the back of the seat. When he saw what he had probably known all along he would see, Loki still said nothing, just swallowed so thickly the demon could hear it.

”I'll let up when I believe you have learned your lesson”, he said conversationally, while he folded the belt and grasped both ends in one hand. ”Probably”, he added, after a moment.

He really offered no time for thought on Loki's part after that. Instead he just pulled his hand back and let the double belt land with a solid twack across the man's backside. The pale, smooth, soft skin bloomed a dark pink immediately. Loki gave a yelp that was equal parts pain and surprise and threw himself completely against the backrest, and if there hadn't been a second, unnaturally heavy body weighing the couch down it might have just tipped over. Maybe he made the move for support, maybe in an attempt to get away. The demon didn't ask. He just placed a heavy hand between the flexing shoulder blades to pin Loki in place, in case it happened to be the latter, and let the belt fly again. And again. Measured and steady blows.

The pink colour was soon nicely and evenly spread all over Loki's ass and the back of his thighs. The mortal was gasping for air and whining in the back of his throat sometimes, but he hadn't shouted out since the first lash. When the belt went back over the already abused skin, though, turning it from pink to red, then mingling that with dark lines where the skin turned almost blue, the noises from Loki started getting louder, sharper, more pained. He still didn't struggle under the palm holding him down, to the demon's surprise, even if the skin under it had turned warm and slick with sweat.

Instead of fighting, Loki started crying when the strikes grew heavier and harder. Great, wracking sobs and wet gasps and whimpers came between the broken shouts every hit with the belt pulled from his throat now. And the demon drank the sweet sound of tears down, feasted on every cry of pain. Delicious.

After a while the sobs did turn to a struggle, even though it didn't seem Loki's heart was really in it. It appeared to be mostly a physical reaction, his body instinctively trying to spare itself the abuse and injury. He twisted and squirmed with growing desperation even so, and the demon could hear his short nails claw wildly at the coarse fabric covering the back of the couch. Yelling and moaning was mingling in a symphony of confused, contradicting noises. Loki kept panting and writhing as the punishment continued, but soon it became apparent that he was frantically searching friction against the backrest he was pushed into. Only the hardest hits made him yell and shout anymore, and he was clearly tiring, his head dropping down heavily before jerking back at every twack from the belt. 

The demon would have expected him to try to call a halt by now. Beg for mercy. More than once, even. Not that he would have listened, of course, but he had counted on some good old-fashioned begging. Loki was refusing to give it. 

It was actually pretty damn spectacular. Frustrating and fascinating all at once.

At last the demon decided to consider the dry, hissing breaths that were now the only noises from Loki, and sluggish movements from the body under his hand, to be signs that the lesson was learned, and dropped the belt on the floor. He moved closer on the couch and ran his now empty hand down Loki's lower back, felt the tense, quivering muscles under his palm, and heard the whimpered response. 

”Well, I guess there was a reason you called for me, after all”, he said, teasingly. ”Because it seems there _is_ something you desperately need, Loki.” The demon leaned even closer. _”Isn't there?”_ At the last words he pulled his hand away and then let it land on one of the beaten, raw ass-cheeks with a sharp smack. Filled his hand with that bruised, flushed hot, swollen and very sore flesh, digging his fingertips and nails in deep. 

Loki bucked into it, then thrust forward, screamed, and came. Hard. Curling up under the hands on him, rutting into the cushions covering the back of the couch. After the rush had left him hanging limp over the backrest, he started crying again. Quietly this time, but the demon clearly felt the cramps pulling at the shoulderblades by his hand. He didn't seem able to move. Or speak. Or do anything but stay there, sobbing silently.

The demon grinned at the bent down neck, where strands of black were stuck to the sweat drying on the pale skin. He hadn't been this pleased in decades.

Perhaps that was why he then went on to surprise himself by moving his hand to grab that hot, limply rolling neck and pulled Loki back until he could smoothly catch the young man's shoulders in one arm, slip the other behind his knees, and lift him off the couch. Loki just melted into his chest, long shins and really elegant feet dangling from the demon's arm while his black, tousled head rolled around to rest his hot, wet face almost by the demon's neck. Still grinning he carried Loki into his bedroom and put him down on the bed. The human hissed and rolled over on his side, then his front, sparing himself the pain of pressure on his backside, but he still said nothing. Just buried his face in the pillow with a shuddering sigh.

Taking a moment to admire his handiwork, the demon let his eyes wander over the shape in front of him. There was a dusting of whiter skin on the surface of Loki's ass and thighs, broken over the still darkening bruising under it. Swollen ridges running through it all from the edges of the belt. Beautiful. Then the demon reached out, grasped a corner of the covers and threw them over the naked young man, before he turned and left, stepping right from the bedroom down to the dark street outside.

It wasn't long before he felt a small weight settle on his left shoulder, clawed fingers holding on for support, a tail slithering around his throat.

”If I didn't know better, I would guess you like him too, sir.” He could hear the wide grin in Jarvis' voice.

”Good thing you know better then.” He kept his own voice even. ”This one is far more entertaining than I would have guessed, that's all. Once I've torn him apart and burned him there will be nothing this satisfying left to play with.” The demon shrugged, making the imp cling on harder, claws digging in. He didn't mind.

”And you still plan to do that?”

Frowning he glanced at the red little creature out of the corner of his eye. ”Of course. He called me. Tried to cast me off, at that. There is nothing else I can do.” He looked ahead again while he kept walking along the deserted street. ”Next time, I will take him.”

”Sure you will.”

The demon came to a sudden halt, reached his arm up, lightning quick, and tugged the imp from his shoulder. It gave a startled little squeak, but once it was hanging limply by the scruff of its leathery neck, the imp didn't try to fight free – there would have been no use, anyway.

”Are you mocking me?” He scowled at the creature.

”Oh, you know I would _never_ , sir!” The brightly glowing blue eyes, shining with the demon's own magic, turned very wide in an innocent look that was hilariously out of place on the sharp little face.

The demon didn't even bother with a reply for that. He just gave a dismissive snort, flicked his wrist and carelessly tossed the imp away while he started walking again. He heard claws scrabble over the alsphalt as the imp landed and righted itself, and the little snigger it couldn't hold back.

”Go back and keep an eye on him until I feel like coming to claim him.” He glanced over his shoulder at the imp, crouched down on the sidewalk, grinning after him. ”If he gets into more trouble while I'm away, I'm blaming you, Jarvis.”

With a little cackle of a laugh the imp vanished.

And the demon traveled then. For days. Trying to take his mind off the pale, infuriating, delicious, defiant human. It didn't work. And when he returned it wasn't to incinerate him and snatch his soul away, after all. (Damnit, but Jarvis had been right! He did like the mortal. Fuck!) Instead he watched the young man from the shadows, saw him still wince when he sat down carelessly, saw that his skin was still thoroughly marked, even though it was slowly healing and fading away. Saw Loki glance over his shoulder now and then, frowning, as if he had heard something, felt something, and wondered if he was as alone in his home as it seemed.

And the demon known as Anathema had to admit that this thing definitely had not turned out the way he had expected. That, he didn't like. He growled and bristled, felt claws and fangs sharpen on his restless anger. The magic in his chest glowed and flickered and he knew this wouldn't – couldn't – last. He would soon have to act.

He knew what he should do. That he should end this.

He didn't know if he could, though.

* * *

”Well, that looks sort of painful. Did you sit on something you shouldn't have?”

The voice was smooth and soft, but it still woke Loki up with a start since it shouldn't be in his bedroom. Especially when the words were followed by what had to be a finger prodding the back of his thigh. At least his backside wasn't as sore as it had been a few days ago, even if it was still every shade of pink, red, purple, blue and black known to man. 

He flipped over, half caught in the sheets and covers, and wasn't at all surprised to find himself face to face with Anathema, even though the demon had been gone for four days. Since the circle incident, as Loki had come to think of it. Now, the demon was lazily stretched out on the bed next to him, an elbow on the mattress and his head propped in his hand. Smirking. He seemed dressed the same semi-casual way as last time, slacks and shirt, all black.

”Very funny”, Loki muttered hoarsely and rubbed a hand over his face, chasing away sleep.

”I thought so, too.” The demon grinned, and it looked just a hint too sharp to be amused. There was something else there, glinting in the points of his teeth. ”Missed me?”

Letting his hand drop back to the bed Loki stared at the demon, searching for something to say. He came up surprisingly short. There should have been an obvious _no!_ coming, but somehow he failed. ”I wondered where you'd gone.” At least it wasn't a yes...

”Of course you did.” Anathema rolled closer then, almost on top of Loki, making him tip on his back as he supported himself with a hand on either side of him. ”And did you attempt to find a new way to get rid of me while I was away?

Loki blinked up at the dark eyes, saw the amused lines at their outer corners, and felt sure that the demon already knew everything he needed to know. There had been no sign of the imp being around, but there had been times when Loki had known he wasn't alone, that someone was watching. ”Yes”, he admitted, hesitantly. ”But I found nothing.” Perhaps because he hadn't been trying very hard. After all, the demon had said Loki would need his true name, and there was just no way to find that.

He suspected that the only one who could ever tell him that name, was the demon himself. And what were the odds of that ever happening?

The demon's grin widened, the skin by his eyes creasing deeper with it. ”I know.” Then his dark head tipped forward, his nose nudged Loki's chin, tilting his head back, and it felt a lot like he was smelling the side of his throat. Lips brushed by his collarbone, and the tip of that nose touched him again, right below his ear this time. ”You poor thing.”

Loki shivered a little at the sensation, and his hands came up to fist in the sides of the demon's shirt, pulling at it uselessly. ”Why aren't you -” He gasped at a sharp nip at the sensitive skin on his neck. ”– hurting me?”

A heated, breathy laugh touched him and made him shiver even more. ”Beating you black and blue wasn't enough?”

”No...”, he moaned when a tongue flicked at his ear. ”I mean, yes!” He squirmed, and got nowhere, of course. ”But I thought you... wanted me dead. You could have stripped me to the bone with that belt. Why didn't you?”

The demon pulled back, frowning down at him now. ”One might think you wanted me to.”

It wasn't really a question. Somehow Loki thought he answered it anyway when his eyes could no longer meet the brown ones hovering over him.

For a few moments the demon was still as a statue on top of him, heavy and solid and unmoving. Then his head dropped down again, and his mouth found Loki's other ear right before a hand slid into the hair behind it, holding his head in place. ”You poor, pretty thing”, the rich voice murmured against the shell of his ear, before that mouth moved lower. The four needle-sharp points of his fangs suddenly prickled the side of Loki's throat and then sunk into him, just a little, just enough to burn and sting and make Loki whine and whimper. When those teeth pulled back, soft lips soothed his skin instead. ”You really are desperate to feel anything, aren't you?”

Loki really couldn't answer this time, only pull harder at that black shirt in his hands, bucking up into the immovable body in the garment, gasping in gulping breaths, feeling tears sting at his eyes and not even sure what the hell he was fighting for. Or against. He had no idea which.

”No wonder you called for me”, Anathema purred, vibrating into his neck.

”I didn't!” Loki twisted harder, pulling at the grip in his hair. ”I didn't! Stop saying that!”

The demon hissed in his ear then, and abruptly sat up, straddling his hips, heavy hands pinning his shoulders. His full lips were stained red with the drops of blood he had drawn from Loki's neck. ”There's no use denying it. We both know it's the truth.”

When he tried to escape the demon's searching eyes again Loki's gaze fell to his chest, where the blue light he had only glimpsed before suddenly shone bright. He blinked, and realized that his panicked pulling at the shirt had made him rip it almost open, baring the skin under it. 

It wasn't really until then, when he saw that symbol – the two triangles in a circle – etched in burning blue into the skin over the demon's sternum, that he really understood that yes, he had done this. He _had_ called for the demon. Loki had picked up that book, read those words, and made this happen. It wasn't some great prank that would be revealed at any time. Somewhere inside him his entire world-view tilted, tipped, and came crashing down. A bit late into the game all things considered, perhaps, but he felt he had to cut himself some slack. Because to be fair, it had all been pretty damn unreal.

The imp had been right – the fact that he hadn't known the rules didn't matter when he had already broken them. Maybe he _should_ have known? Perhaps this wasn't just his personal shortcoming, though, but a mistake humanity had made, collectively. They had forgotten things like this existed, that there were indeed dark rules they must know how to play by.

And he had already known that the demon himself had been right; there had been something Loki desperately needed, and perhaps he had been close enough to giving up that he had been prepared to reach even for this. Even when he didn't know the price.

His head felt like it was spinning when he let go of the demon's shirt with one hand and instead reached for those shining lines in his dark skin. The pale fingers didn't even get glose before darker ones caught them, keeping them off. Loki looked up at the bearded face again.

”Don't reach for that.”

Loki frowned. ”Why not?”

Anathema hesitated. ”It would undo you.”

He felt his frown deepen, confused. ”I thought that was what you wanted.”

Dark eyes held his, wide and strangely bewildered. ”So did I.” And then, between one heartbeat and another, the demon was gone.

Groaning in frustration, Loki rolled over and buried his face in the pillow; he could still smell some of the dark man's spicey scent there. ”That is the most _annoying habit ever_!” He shouted into the fabric, pounding the fleshy part of a fist into the wall above his head.

* * *

”It can't possibly be as bad as all that, sir?” Jarvis reached out a careful, red little hand and gently patted the head of dark, half-curly hair resting on the table in front of him.

They were hidden in plain sight, the demon sitting at a corner table in a dark, dank, foul-smelling bar of the kind he preferred to seek out when he was in an unusually dark mood. No-one who looked their way could see them, of course, but if they had been able to the mortals would have seen a tall, dark man leaning over the table where he was sitting. Forehead resting on the sticky surface, one arm curled around his head, the other stretched over the table, hand gripping the base of a bottle of smoky scotch. Half empty.

Jarvis had been lapping up some of the liquor out of the bottle cap. He liked the way it warmed his belly. But he couldn't really enjoy it when his master was so obviously miserable. And had been for a couple of days, now.

”Yes it can”, the demon said into the table, his tone heavy and monotonous. ”I don't know what the fuck's happened but it's bad. Really bad.” The hand on his bent arm gripped the bicep of his stretched out one hard enough for his knuckles to pale. ”The guy is more or less asking me to rip him to shreds, Jarvis. He _wants_ it! I can almost _taste_ how badly. And I just ran away.” He groaned like a dying beast. ”Why did I run away?!” He whined. ”I should have just done it, right there and then!”

The imp curled up closer to the demon's arm. His tail rippled nervously, but he kept the hand still stroking the mess of brown hair soft and slow. ”Perhaps you don't really want to do it?”

”Of course I do!”

Jarvis rolled his eyes, safe in the knowledge that the demon couldn't see him do it. ”Sir, you -”

”I want to!” The demon jerked his head up and stared at his imp with wide, slightly bloodshot eyes, jaw stubbornly set. ”I want to have him. Taste his blood and torment on my tongue. Take him apart and see what makes him up. He wants nothing more than to feel, and I want him to _writhe_! So why did I run, Jarvis?” He let go of the bottle and wrapped his fingers around the imp's long, skinny neck – didn't squeeze or crush, just pulled the red little creature closer, to stare even harder into his blue eyes. ”Why?!”

”Oh, sir...” The imp sighed, and took his hand from the demon's hair to instead pat at the wrist of the hand holding him. ”Isn't it obvious? You ran because you want those things. Not just for now, not just to sear the soul out of him. You want it to last. You don't want him to go up in flames, sir – you want him to _burn_. Slowly, hotly, and just keep feeding the fire. Forever.”

For a while the demon kept staring, silent, stunned. Then he let his fingers slip up to the back of the imp's neck instead, pulled him in close enough to place a kiss on the wide, leathery forehead. And then he disappeared.

Rubbing the back of his hand over his damp forehead, Jarvis grumbled to himself. ”Yes, I see it now; that really is an annoying habit...”

* * *

When Loki stepped into the livingroom that night, carrying a beer and ready to settle in front of the TV for a few hours of nothing, there was already someone sitting on the couch. A dark and familiar someone, bent over with his elbows on his knees, hands hanging between them, brown eyes locked on Loki's face. A small, red shape was perched on the backrest behind him.

”I know you never meant to call me.”

”You do?” Loki had stopped just inside the doorway.

The demon snorted softly and looked away. ”Of course I do!” He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, looking very humanly awkward all at once. ”No-one ever calls me because they mean to anymore.” The dark eyes shifted back. ”But I still believe you found my name to call, and none of all the others in that book, because you needed me.”

Now it was Loki's turn to glance away. He cleared his throat. ”Maybe you're right.” Biting his lip he kept his eyes on the floor while he started moving again, walked up to the couch and sat down. When he raised his head, brown eyes were eyeing him curiously.

”You have nothing, do you?”

”Ouch”, Loki muttered, and took a swallow of his beer. ”Asshole.”

A chuckle. ”I'm right again, though, aren't I?”

”Sure. Still rude.” Then Loki turned curious. ”What do _you_ have, by the way?”

The demon opened his mouth. Then shut it. Looked away, and huffed. ”Jarvis.”

”Pardon?”

For an answer, the demon leaned back in his seat and let the imp scurry down from the backrest to place itself on his leg instead. And then Loki understood, of course.

”Jarvis was a slave in my father's household”, the demon said, looking down at the red, sinewy creature in his lap with a fond smile. ”Since before I was born. He raised me, really. Always treated me fairly, too. A good man, to the end.”

Jarvis had curled himself up on the demon's thigh, tail wrapped around his feet. The long ears were folded back, almost meekly, and the wide, blue eyes were looking adoringly up at the dark man.

Loki got a lump in his throat at the very obvious affection between the two. It was about the last thing he had expected to see there. ”But if he was a good man, why is he... like this?” He couldn't help the curious, confused question.

”Because he chose it.” The demon raised his eyes to Loki's face. ”Even when my own choices turned me into this, he followed. And has stayed with me ever since.”

There came a sharp, rattling purr from the imp, and Loki saw that the demon's fingers were rubbing gently along its bony spine. Then a sigh from the demon made Loki look up at his suddenly weary face.

”My given name was Antonius”, the deep, dark voice said softly. ”Primus Antonius Penitus. You would call me Anthony, in this time and place.” Dark brown eyes held his, and Loki swallowed. ”I was the son of a reputable father and I did some... unsavoury things, in my attempts to make him proud.” There was no joy in his wry smirk. ”It all ended in blood and fire, and the dark powers I had drawn upon to keep myself alive when I should have perished... Well, they demanded payment. So, here I am.”

Loki's eyes dropped almost by themselves to Anthony's chest, where he could see just a hint of the blue glow. ”So that is what that was? Something to keep you alive?”

The demon nodded, and rubbed a hand absently over the mark under his shirt. ”It felt worth it at the time. Perhaps it still does, at that.”

For what seemed like a long time they sat quietly beside each other. Then the demon heaved another sigh, shooed Jarvis off his lap, and stood. Without a word he started walking across the room, and Loki shot out of his seat, torn and uncertain and sore on the inside in some strange way.

”You're leaving?”

The demon stopped, but didn't turn. ”Yeah, I guess I am.”

”But you're coming back?”

His dark-haired head turned enough that Loki saw a glimpse of an eye. ”You still owe me your soul, Loki. I'll come for it. Some day. Unless you do something about it.” Then he faced forward, took another step, and was gone.

Loki stared at the spot where the demon had disappeared, feeling completely lost and at a loss, when he felt something pull at the right leg of his pants. He blinked out of his stunned state and looked down, finding Jarvis gazing up at him with pleading eyes, the blue glow looking oddly liquid.

”I don't understand”, he admitted, not sure what the imp was asking of him. ”He gave me his name. What does he want me to do?”

The imp gave him a smile that was a lot less toothy than his usual grins. ”No, Loki. The important question is; what do _you_ want to do?” And then the imp was gone, too.

* * *

He hadn't really gotten that far from Loki's apartment when something tugged at his chest. The glowing lines turned oddly warm in his skin, and then _pulled_ , forcing him to come to a halt, turning him around. Gasping, he slapped his hands over his sternum, trying to snuff the sensation out. It just pulled harder.

”What...?”

_”Primus Antonius Penitus”_ , a voice whispered all around him. A voice very much like Loki's. _”I bind you.”_

”Oh...”

The world swept away, and the next thing he knew he was standing in Loki's worn kitchen again. So close to the mortal that he could see the flecks of gold in his huge, green eyes. Reeling as he was from the bone-deep, heart-rattling summoning by his true, own name, it took him a moment to realize that he was standing too close. He should have been forced outside a circle, repelled by salt, kept at a distance. 

”Loki, you fool.” He sighed. ”I thought you had learned your lesson.”

The green eyes narrowed with a smile. ”I have.”

Then Anthony looked down on the floor around them. They were standing in the center of two triangles, inside a circle, drawn in glimmering white salt. ”Oh”, he repeated. All words stolen away still when he met Loki's eyes again.

He was bound, indeed; firmly chained to this mortal's soul. Just as the mortal was now bound to him – and perhaps not a mortal at all, anymore. So he raised his hands and slipped them around Loki's neck and up into his hair. He pulled him even closer, and sealed it with a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Breakdown of Tony's original human name:  
> Primus – ”the first”, meaning he was the firstborn son in the family. (Yes, the romans actually numbered their kids, they had no imagination what so ever.)  
> Antonius – given name.  
> Penitus – family name. Meaning ”entirely”, ”starkly”, or ”stark”. (Why yes, I _do_ crack myself up. Thank you for asking.)


End file.
